Sway to the Rhythm
by Kienova
Summary: "Calm down," Fitz whispers, his breath fanning out against her ear as he timidly places a hand on her hip, trying to get her moving with the actual beat of the music. Just because he doesn't know how to dance here doesn't mean that he can't help her. He regrets his decision almost instantly.


The air is sticky with heat as he finds himself awkwardly dragged away from the bar and into the heaving masses of the club, the air conditioning that's pumping through the room doing little to cool the heap of bodies on the dance floor. He can't help but feel slightly dizzy and overwhelmed by it, the girls in front of him exchanging a few words close to one another before Skye nudges Ward, the older man's lips in a thin line as he nods and follows her.

"We can cover more ground this way," Jemma yells, lips close to his cheek as he watches Skye and Ward shove their way through the other patrons of the club, moving towards the other side of the room. Distantly, he wonders if Skye actually cares about finding the woman they're looking for or if she's just trying to get closer to her SO. Fitz nods, glancing around them and wondering how the hell they're supposed to find _anyone_ in the crowd when even the faces around him seem blurred in the darkness, the flashing lights and fog machines making the atmosphere heady and humid. Jemma bites her lip, looking worried and nervous for a moment before she turns away from him, her back pressing against his front as she tries to sway to the music.

Fitz tries to keep his breathing as normal as he can as he stands behind her, watching how uncertainty radiates off her in waves. Neither of them are used to being in the field yet. Neither of them are used to trying to subtly blend into crowds they're not used to. Not used to being in settings so foreign that they don't know the proper protocols. The Boiler Room at the Academy had been the closest thing to a club he had ever entered and he wonders, belatedly, if Jemma has ever really gone elsewhere as well. Her movements are stiff and awkward, hands fidgeting at her sides as she looks around at the people surrounding them.

"Calm down," Fitz whispers, his breath fanning out against her ear as he timidly places a hand on her hip, trying to get her moving with the actual beat of the music. Just because he doesn't know how to dance here doesn't mean that he can't help her. She glances back at him before letting out a shuddering breath, her eyes closing.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she confesses.

"Move with the rhythm. Don't worry about anyone else," he replies, trembling fingers pressing against the waistband of her jeans. She nods, keeping her eyes closed as she tries to absorb the feeling of the bass and to sway with it. It takes her a few moments but suddenly she gets it. She rocks fluidly with the thrumming sound, her hands, palms damp with sweat, come to catch his before she pushes them more firmly against her waist, her head dropping back against his shoulder.

"You should be dancing too," she yells, eyes half lidded suddenly as he feels his cheeks heat, slowly moving behind her.

"Fine," he bites out, consumed by the look of the woman in front of him. Unlike on the bus, Skye had convinced her to wear a top that he's never seen before, the low cut neckline displaying the sweat that is gathering against her delicate collarbones. Glancing slightly lower, he can see the swell of her breasts pushing against the red fabric as her backside brushes against him, a drop of sweat disappearing into the dark crevice between them. Fitz winces slightly, trying to keep a straight face as he inches his hips backwards, feeling his cock swelling at the mere touch of her arse against him. Jemma seems to pay his actions no heed, her eyes going back to scanning the crowd as she starts to move more languidly, grinding up against his crotch.

He tries to find Skye and Ward in the crowd, anything to distract himself from the feeling of Jemma against him. The friction has already brought his body to full attention, erection straining against the thick denim of his jeans. His thumb is tracing circles on her hip, accidentally pushing at the fabric of her shirt until he feels warm, sweat-damp skin beneath his fingerprint. He swears softly, so quiet that she doesn't hear him as he looks around. Everyone else on the dance floor is writhing and touching one another, some intimately, while others are already so drunk they can do little more than thrust against one another, pushing against anyone around them. He drops his chin to her shoulder, trying to ignore the arousal coursing through his blood.

Jemma moans quietly, the sound reverberating through his skin at the feeling of his stubble scraping against her. She can feel the tension dripping off him, the rigid movements he's engaging in not fluid like her own dancing has become.

"Relax," she says, breath hot against his cheek as he nods, blood burning beneath his skin as she twists her hips just right, dragging against his hard cock as she moves. He wonders, vaguely, if she's even slightly turned on by their proximity. Would she be aroused to know how he's practically bursting out of the zipper of his jeans at the feel of her against him; the smell of her perfume surrounding him? Would she be alright with such a display of public affection? Want things to stop here? Or would she want him to slide a thigh between her legs until she has something to grind herself against while he pushed against her ass, seeking his own release.

Inhaling shakily, he tries to get himself under control, thinking of anything that repulses him in order to try and lessen his erection. Even the worst images he can conjure, however, do little to help him, the feeling of Jemma's back pressed against his chest and the occasional swipe of her backside against him blurring his vision. He hopes no one is watching them. That Skye and Ward can't see how he's desperately trying to keep himself under control while the woman he loves gyrates against him, hips suddenly moving faster as the beat of the song changes.

Unable to stop himself, he lets his mind get caught in the rhythm, his hand moving from her hip to drag up and down her side, thumb brushing against the side of her breast. He doesn't hear the hitch in her breathing at the sensation, the sound drowned out by the music and the bass thrumming through the room.

Jemma's eyes are wide as she feels him starting to actually sway with her, his hips bumping against hers in a way that sets her blood on fire. They have a job they need to do, but all she can concentrate on is the way his hands are suddenly on her sides, squeezing gently as he drags them along her ribs before settling them against her hips again. Chewing at her lip, she rocks against him, twisting her hips in a way that make his fingers tighten. Suddenly, she wants nothing more than to hear him. She can feel him panting against her neck, every few exhales more poignant than the last. She wonders if he's cursing or saying her name. She would be fine with either, she realises. And suddenly she wants this to be more than just simply dancing.

She shifts her hips from side to side, opening her thighs slightly as she leans just a little bit forward, gasping as she feels him press against her without warning, one of his thighs sliding between her legs. She can't help the gasp that punches out of her lungs then, his cock hard and thick against her. She feels hazy all of a sudden, heart pounding as arousal floods her system, her knickers soaking almost instantly. She swears she can feel him twitching against her, her breathing ragged as she tries to grind back against him.

She lets her hands join his on her hips, squeezing his fingers as he presses insistently against her, lost in the pounding bass and the humid, fog filled air. He rocks against her, consumed by sensation and he can swear she's moving the way she is on purpose. Closing his eyes he thrusts against her, dragging his cock against her ass, her body pressed firmly to his thigh as he suddenly can't take it anymore.

He doesn't bite or scream, but he drops his mouth onto her shoulder, breath rushing out of him as his hips jump and buck against her, hands keeping her tight to him as he cries out softly, a constant litany of 'fuck' against her oversensitive skin. He couldn't stop it if he tried, his cock twitching and jerking as he finds release, pulsing out thick streams of cum into his pants.

Jemma whimpers, trying to squirm against his thigh, her own body desperate for orgasm as her clit throbs painfully. Her nipples feel hard and tight, the friction of her bra torturous as the sweat dampens the fabric, dragging against her with each movement as she writhes, trying to get closer. All she can think about is what he would feel like inside her and she is so, _so,_ close. If only he would –

Fitz pulls back from her suddenly, his cheeks flaming as he all but flees the dance floor, leaving Jemma standing alone in the throng of people, her body twitching with unsatisfied desire. She spares a second to wonder if anyone would even pay her any notice if she were to press her fingers against the seam of her jeans and rub, hard, before her heart drops into her stomach at the realisation that he had run from her.

She instantly feels sick, her body only moving as a response to the hundreds of others pressed around her, easily moving into the space that Fitz had occupied mere moment before. Ward crackles over the comms to say that May and Coulson are in pursuit of their suspect outside and to clear out of the club a few seconds later. If her makeup is running down her face as she slips towards the exit, she blames it on the heat of the room instead of the pain that is blooming in her heart at the thought that she had been misreading everything and that Fitz doesn't want her.

XxX

Fitz cleans himself up the best he can, damp paper towels doing little to fix anything as he curses at the fabric of his underwear, hidden away in a stall of the bathroom, the music pounding so loud that he knows no one will hear him. He grimaces as he tugs his jeans back up before ducking out of the bathroom, cheeks still scalding in embarrassment as he leaves the back hallway of the club to head for the doors, thankful for the dim lighting and dark fabric of his trousers.

He can't meet Jemma's eyes once he's outside, the street lamps casting shadows on the sidewalk as he stands awkwardly next to her, neither of them speaking as Ward and Skye came out a moment later. Skye is still vibrating with energy and Ward his normal stoic self, rolling his eyes as he surrenders the keys to Skye, muttering about a lost bet as they all trudge to the SUV.

In all his life he has never managed to do something so stupid. So childish. He chastises himself as he climbs into the back seat, trying to keep as far from Jemma as he can. Yes, his experiences with women were limited. Yes, it had been quite a while since the last one. Being in a holding pattern of unrequited love with your best friend does that to a bloke. But he can't wrap his mind around the fact he had just ejaculated in public while pressed up against said best friend. He can feel Jemma glancing at him throughout the ride back to the Bus, trying desperately to ignore the heat that her gaze causes.

He's out of the car the minute it stops, ducking into the lab until he can flop into one of the chairs, needing the others to get upstairs before him so that no one questions his awkward gait. To his chagrin, however, Jemma follows him, a strange expression on her features as she leans against the holotable.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Jemma asks, eyes dropping down to where she fumbles with the edge of her top.

"I'd really rather not," Fitz replies, trying to find a comfortable position as he grabs his satchel from the ground, putting it on his knees.

"It seems like you were enjoying –"

"You think I was enjoying that? That... I wanted things to end the way they did?" he counters, knowing that unless Jemma is completely ignorant she'll take the bait and leave it at that. He doesn't want to discuss things any further, his cheeks still flaming from embarrassment as he settles his bag more firmly on his lap, trying to keep his voice low as he feels the plane take off, Coulson's voice echoing from the cargo bay as he talks with Skye.

'Well at least part of you was enjoying it," Jemma snarls in reply, her own hackles rising with insecurity.

Oh God, he wants to die of shame rather than continue the conversation but his temper ignores him, racing forward as more words spill out of him.

"You know what?" he starts, nausea rumbling in his throat as he forces the words out. "I'll be the adult here and admit it's been a while. So forgive me for being a bit shaken up by this and for my biology ruling over my intellect for _once_ in God knows how many years."

"Biology –" she tries, Fitz cutting her off almost instantly.

"Well, I'm sorry for finding you attractive! It must be _so_ difficult to know that you're wanted! That someone, that _I_ , find you so entrancing that a fucking dance results in me going off like a teenager," he growls, glaring at her.

Jemma blinks at him, eyes watering at the statement. Fitz curses under his breath, eyes dropping to his lap even as his head spins. He wishes he could pull each syllable back into his mouth. Wishes he wasn't sitting in uncomfortable trousers on a plane with the woman he's been in love with for half a decade staring at him. Wishes he knew what she was thinking after he so carelessly spilled the words he's been holding inside him for years.

"You want me?" she queries, the question forced out of her. Fitz nods, fingers tightening against the fabric of the satchel.

"Of course I do. God, how could I not?"

"I'm sure there are other women -" she tries, only to be cut off again.

"Kind of hard to look for anyone when you're already in love." The words blurt out into the stillness of the lab before he can stop them, his heart plummeting into his stomach when he realises what he's just said.

"Fitz -" Jemma tries, her own head spinning as she processes the words.

"Can we just forget any of this ever happened?" he inquires, voice thick as he clenches his eyes shut.

"What if I don't want to?" she asks, voice timid as she looks at her hands, unable to meet his eyes across the lab. "I know... that... uhm, that this evening wasn't ideal but... I..." She frowns, shaking her head. "I don't want to forget it because I want... I want more." She looks up as she says the words, heart pounding in her throat as she waits for him to respond. When he doesn't, she crosses the lab slowly, nudging his bag from his lap to the floor. "I want _you_."

"Jem," he breathes, eyes wide as he looks at her. She lowers herself until she's straddling him, keeping eye contact as she drags her nose against his, her lips pressing to his gently before she continues to speak.

"Take me to bed Fitz."


End file.
